2nd Anniversary Since Diagnosis

October 22, 2022

Yesterday officially marked 2 years since I heard the words, "It is cancer."

So much has happened since then and strangely so much is oddly the same.

I have been through countless diagnostic labs, xrays, Endoscopies, CTs, MRI's, and PET scans. I have had surgery to place a port, chemo, a month of daily radiation, a huge esophageal surgery that removed my initial tumor, my esophagus and the top 1/2 of my stomach. I have had 8-9 subsequent surgeries to stretch the scar tissue where my stomach was stitched up to my throat to become my "new esophagus" so I could swallow foods. I have had surgery to place a stent in that new esophagus to hold it open and a follow up surgery to remove it 8 weeks later. I have been intubated countless times, woken up on a ventilator, had a collapsed lung, aspirated during surgery, and have dealt with several bouts of pneumonia. I have a weekly aspiration events while sleeping since March 2023. At one point, I had 5 tubes coming out of me for various reasons (no fun to remove btw) and have struggled to take a single step, much less navigate walking down the hall and back from my hospital room. I was on home oxygen for 6 months and had a nonhealing surgical wound cared for by home health and had a whole year of immunotherapy treatment. Most recently, I have had a recurrence and met with countless specialists (lol that has actually been a constant). I had a fine needle biopsy and had then a surgery to remove 3 lymph nodes. Those three add to the collection of 43 lymph nodes I previously had removed during the big surgery.

It's a lot to type.

It's a lot to remember.

It has been a lot to navigate through.

And the reality is, my journey in this is still ongoing. My next scan is set for January 7th and while my prayer is it won't, there is a strong likelihood that the cancer will have moved somewhere else.

And I will lace up my boots and keep wading through the muck.

So much though in these past few months has been oddly the same....

I have continued to grieve the loss of my mother (she passed 10 months almost to the day before my diagnosis). I have celebrated holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, and graduations. My kids have still complained about homeschool assignments. I have planned menus and written grocery lists. Bills have come. The truck has broken down...several times. News has cycled on the TV and storms have blown in and out. Candidates have made promises, made mistakes, and made fools of themselves. Friends have suffered. Friends have shined. The church calendar marched on and the doors continued to open...and close. Bible studies have been started ... and finished. The sun rose. Prayers have been lifted. Tears have fallen. Laughter has swelled. Anger has snapped. Clients logged on and off as I continued to work full time. My volunteer calendar filled and emptied. Board meetings and talk of future goals continued to happen. Life has just lifed...even in the midst of this overwhelming thing that I am going through that some days feels like it sucks the very breath from my lungs.

If I'm honest...some days, I like that there is normalcy that I can absorb myself with so that this big ol C word diminishes in the hustle and bustle of it all. Other days though it makes it all feel so very lonely. It's hard sometimes to be reminded of a simpler time when all of these "regular ol things" happened in my little naive bubble where I was oblivious to the fact that time is so fleeting, and I might not be here as long as I had anticipated to enjoy it.

Now that isn't meant to be doom and gloom but it is reality. Here is another reality...I'm not special. My story and all that I have endured and will endure, while unique, isn't superhuman or a reflection of who I am or who I am not. It doesn't show where my spiritual heart is or isn't (Yes that has actually been stated as a reason why my cancer isn't completely gone yet or why it even appeared in the first place).

Nope the reality is...life just lifes. Hardships come. There are hills and valleys. People live...and die. ...And sometimes DNA gets a bit screwy and mutates on hyperdrive and creates tumors.

We are all out here doing the best we can. And make no mistake, we are ALL going through a major something at any given point and time... even if it isn't a diagnosis.

This week I went to vote early.

Paul and I pulled up at our preferred poll place and the line was out the building and stretched out into the parking lot. I opted to get my walker out as I am still having issues with standing for long periods of time. Best my doctors can tell, because my vague nerve was cut several times during the big surgery, my ability to regulate my blood pressure and pulse rate is compromised so orthostatic changes happen whenever I go from sitting to standing etc. I also wore a mask. While waiting. negative comments were made out loud about the masking AND about me sitting in my walker as we waited in the line.

It was a lot of effort for me to be there and by the time it was my turn to actually vote I was near tears from the exhaustion of the effort. Her comments just made it all that much more difficult to get through.

Paul and I didn't say anything to her. Maybe we should have. I have thought of a million different reactions I "could have done" since.

But instead, I will just use the experience to amplify the summation of my insights acquired in these last two years since my diagnosis.

It can best be summed up in this...

Just. Be. Kind.

Be aware....take notice of your moments (don't just live your life on autopilot) but also take notice of the others around you.

We are all traversing our own mountains.

We are all hunkering down looking for shelter in our own valleys.

And though it is true, we can't always fix things for others...not really.

We can all do our part to not make it worse...by just being kind. Opting to offer a smile or to hold a door open. We can extend patience in check-out counters or at traffic lights.

Just those little things that if nothing else says... I see you. I recognize that you might be at your breaking point mentally, emotionally, spiritually, or physically.

Let's just share this space for a second alongside each other and catch our breath.